Healing
by Dala1
Summary: Hurt-comfort drabble series -- various pairings (mostly slash), both humor and angst, some character death.
1. Burn

**Burn**

* * *

"I can't begin to tell you how sorry I am, Will –"  
  
"Really, it's all right. Far from the worst burn I've ever had. You didn't know that brazier had just been on the fire. Ahhh – careful."  
  
"I'm s–"  
  
"Not again, James."  
  
"Mmmph."  
  
"Much better."  
  
"Do you want me to fetch more water?"  
  
"If you really want to lessen the sting...you could use your mouth..."  
  
"That seems – well, I suppose –"  
  
"Oh – oh yes, that feels nice. Very soothing...mmm, lower..."  
  
"This is not a good idea."  
  
"Just...roll in _that_ direction instead."  
  
"You know – _God_, Will – one of these days, we really are going to have to make it to your room."


	2. Rescue

**Rescue**

* * *

He rubs the salve into Will's striped back. The boy flinches but doesn't make a sound, holds to the silence he's kept since they dragged him out of Maguire's stinking brig. The only time he broke it was when they set fire to the pirate ship from the safety of the Pearl's guns; he asked Jack if he could watch and then, staring at the wreckage, he said hollowly, "Elizabeth." Her body went over the side a week before, or so the cook claimed before Jack ran him through.   
  
Now Will turns his head to the side, looking at Jack out of one eye. His eyes are frighteningly blank. Jack lets his fingers soothe, gently stroking where the lash didn't tear and strip, avoiding going too low; Will has more torn flesh than is visible, and Jack will do nothing to remind him.  
  
Will murmurs something and Jack leans down to hear. "What was that, love?"  
  
"Should have done something," Will whispers, closing his eyes. "When they took us...when they took her away from me..."  
  
Jack takes the boy's hand in his own. "Shhh, William. There was nothing you could've done, not for any of it." He pauses, waiting for Will to speak again, but he merely buries his face in the pillow.  
  
When his wounds are tended, Jack gets up slowly, thinking Will is asleep. But a hand gropes for him.  
  
"Don't leave me alone?" Will lifts his head to blink up at him, his eyes still too dry and too empty. Jack settles against the head of the bed, sliding his legs carefully up beneath the covers. He draws the pillow onto his lap and Will's head follows it. He is asleep almost immediately, while Jack strokes his hair and waits for the horrors to wake him, grateful that Will is going to let him be there to suffer it as well.


	3. Sneaky, Lying

**Sneaky, Lying...**

* * *

"Ouch!"  
  
"Would you stop being such a ninny!" James snapped, reaching for Jack again. The pirate scuttled to the other end of the bed, favoring his left foot and pouting. James rolled his eyes heavenward. "For God's sake, you come back after three months at sea and now you won't let me touch you?"  
  
"I've always been sympathetic to _your_ pain," Jack whined, waving his hat around to fend James off. "Remember Christmas last year?"  
  
"When I broke my arm?" James sat back on his heels and huffed. "You stubbed your toe on the windowsill, Jack. It's hardly the same thing."  
  
Looking coquettish, Jack propped the offended foot on his other knee and bobbed it around in the air. "I'll give only if you kiss it and make it all better."  
  
"Agreed." James took the offered foot gently, bent his lips to the big toe, and promptly flung his full weight down on Jack, who 'oofed' indignantly.  
  
"Oath-breaker!"  
  
"Your feet are dirty," James replied, wriggling to distract him. Jack's mouth twisted in appreciation, going still as James leaned down to breathe hot against his ear. "Now what was that about kissing and making it all better?"


	4. Absolution

**Absolution**

* * *

Jack kicked the door off its hinges without even checking the lock. His pistol immediately trained on the man standing by the window in James's office.  
  
Gillette turned to him, his eyes red-rimmed and his hair mussed like he'd been running his hands through it.  
  
"Do it," he said hoarsely, the pleading note in his voice wrenching fresh anguish from the bleeding, aching flesh of Jack's heart, which was not so black as he'd once thought. Not tonight, and not for these three years past.  
  
"Wasn't your fault, lad," he said, coating his tone with the same clover-honey softness he'd often used in the late hours of the night, rocking James back from dreams of burning sails and Jack himself swinging in the breeze. James – _James_ –  
  
The young lieutenant shook his head wildly. "It was!" he cried, stalking forward. "It was – I fell, and I was in the water, and I couldn't get back up the hull – couldn't help – couldn't save him..." With trembling fingers he gripped Jack's hand, pressing the cold steel muzzle into the hollow of his throat. "You came here to kill me, Sparrow, because I let him die. So do it!"  
  
Jack pried himself loose, eyes locked on watery blue. "Hush," he said past the knot in his throat. "You didn't let him die. Nobody ever _let_ Jamie do anything. He went down defending his ship, an' his men, and that's all he would've asked –" His words broke abruptly, cleanly. Gillette fell against him as the pistol clattered on the floor. Jack clenched his hands in the blue wool overcoat, so familiar, and yet he knew he'd never mistake it for the one that belonged to James, the one that carried his scent, the one now lost to whatever madly daring captain had finally sunk the Dauntless, leaving behind one sobbing lieutenant and a pirate lost with no more north to guide him home.


End file.
